


Girl Talk

by natmerc



Category: Eureka
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-22
Updated: 2008-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natmerc/pseuds/natmerc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo and Zoe talk best while bullets are flying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girl Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lollobrigida](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lollobrigida).



> First posted in the Livejournal Eureka community eurekathon "eurekathon2.0" in July 2008 for LJ user lollobrigida and reposted on AO3 in Dec 2010. The original prompt requested some girl quality time.

The first tin can shot off the tree stump and spun, end over end, until it landed in the tall grasses at the back of the meadow. The uncut grasses at the back, swished and then swallowed it up.

“Like that.” Jo said, and then spun her gun around her index fingers precisely three times and then slammed it back into the holster on her hip.

“I can't do it like that.” Zoe picked up the air-rifle that Jo had given her, and then shook it in her face. “With this pea-shooter? You have to be kidding!”

“You're sixteen, and you haven't passed your firearm safety course yet. You stick with the pea-shooter.”  Jo put one hand on the metal end of the rifle and pushed it away.  "And, never, ever, point a gun at someone unless you mean to use it on them, whether you think it's loaded or not.  You'd learn that in the safety course."

“You mean, the course that my father, the great-and-wondrous sheriff, deemed that I have to take before I can shoot a gun, only to refuse to let me take until I turn eighteen?”

“That one.”

Zoe picked up the air-rifle, pulled the compressor back and then put another baby pea sized bullet back in. She carefully sighted down the stock, and then closed her eyes just as she pulled the trigger. The rifle jerked in her hands, and the end of it hit her nose. “Ow!”

“You missed.” Jo pointed to the red spaghetti can still sitting primly and solidly twenty feet away.

“I was aiming at the corn.” Zoe blinked. “Yellow's easier to spot when it's moving.”

"The can's not moving.  That's just the rifle wobbling."  Jo looked at her, face impassive. “Have you ever fired anything before?”

“Have you ever done a lap-dance in a seedy bar in the back streets of San Francisco?”

Jo's head tilted slightly to the right, she leaned back on her heels, and crossed her arms across her chest. “No, I haven't. And, neither have you.”

“Yes, I have.”

“No, you haven't. Because, if you had, then your father would have tracked down the lap in question, and removed the owner's chances of siring any children for a decade or more, and you would've told me about it before this.”

“Hmph!” Zoe reset, aimed, closed her eyes, and fired. There was a 'spang!” sound. She opened her eyes wide, and stared at the can-formerly-possessed-of-creamed-corn. It still sat there. “Didn't I hit it?”

“You killed the baked beans. Don't worry. It deserved it after what it put me through last week.”

“But,” Zoe stared down the meadow, “I was aiming at the corn.”

“How?”

“What do you mean?”

“How did you aim?” Jo dropped her arms and took a couple steps closer. She took the rifle from Zoe's unresisting hands, set it up again, and then, in exaggerated slow motion, set her stance, as firm as if she were getting ready to fire a high-powered distance rifle, she sited, squeezed the trigger, and the corn rattled off the stump.

“I don't want to do this any more. Let's head back and go to Vincent's and get a burger or something.”

“You're a vegetarian this week.”

“A vegetarian burger, then.”

“I think you should stay here, and I'll give you a few pointers and safety tips. Tips you can use with most weapons.” Jo let the air rifle hang loosely by her side. On her, it looked far more lethal than when Zoe held it. “Knowing the basics is a good thing. You never know when you'll need to shoot someone or, in this town, something.  With your father's knack for getting into trouble, it's a good idea in case there's an emergency.”

“Yeah, like that'll make me really attractive to the guys.”

Jo's face, previously almost expressionless with just a hint of amusement that she let show through her eyes, went completely still.

“Shit. I mean. Shit. It's not like you don't have half the men in town chasing after you, and you can handle guns.”

“Guns, grenades, explosives, laser rifles, implosion devices, anti-gravity slips, and tanks, among other things. Tanks are really a big attractor.” Jo shrugged, and then handed her the air-rifle. “It's not about being sexy or not, it's about being able to protect others as well as yourself.”

“That's my dad's job.”

“It's everybody's job.”

Zoe sighed. “Fine. Teach me how to kill the spaghetti.” She sighed again, even more dramatically, and flopped her hands in the air. “Teach me to me a can-killer, and then when I go on the lam again, I'll always be able to bring down stew for the table.” She looked up.

Jo was smiling, a big grin that lit up her face. “And, then we'll head over to Vincent's, and have burgers.”

“Make mine 100% beef then.” She pushed out a thin, fair-skinned arm, and flexed it. A slight movement under the skin was the only indication of her bicep muscle flexing.

“All beef, all the time.” Jo said.

Zoe giggled.  "You going to tell my dad about this afternoon? The tips, the shooting, and everything?"

"Of course."   Jo said.  "After his morning coffee, and while you're at school.  That way he's got most of the day to cool off before he sees you again."

"Well, then,"  Zoe eyed the back of Jo's jeep, "just what are you packing today?  Feel like giving me any lessons in how to fire one of those anti-gravity whatchamacallits?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

Zoe sighed.  "Fine."  She picked up one of the pellets and scribed a circle in the air with it.  "Teach me how to aim this sucker."

"My pleasure."

  



End file.
